


October prompts: Kidnapped

by theonetruenorth



Series: October writing prompts 2020 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Kidnapping, October prompts 2020, Powerful!Regis, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetruenorth/pseuds/theonetruenorth
Summary: Regis was one step away from losing control.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum
Series: October writing prompts 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948783
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	October prompts: Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for FFXV fandom _*throws confetti*_  
>  Not a native English speaker, so have mercy. Not beta-read (nothing in this series will be, for a bit).

Regis was one step away from losing control.

If it wasn’t for Clarus’ hand squeezing his shoulder he would have crossed that line already. There was a tangible trace of magic he could feel with every inhale, the phantom shapes of his armiger begging to become real, the magic in the room thick enough to actually _make sound_ , the gentle tinkling of crystals in the air. But as it was, Clarus’ nearly painful grip on his shoulder - his fingers digging into Regis’ raiment - was enough to anchor him to reality.

“Tell me you are close to finding him,” Regis said, his voice emotionless and steady, even though he felt like there was a caged animal inside his chest, beating furiously against his ribs with promises of pain and bloody retribution. He could _not_ let it out. He wasn’t sure Insomnia would survive it, if he set it loose now. “Tell me you will find my son.”

The tablet in his hands gave a warning creak as his fingers tightened their grip. On the screen was the looping video, his worst nightmare that became a reality. Noctis, bound to a chair, refusing to read out loud his own ransom note. Noctis, his head snapping back as a well-aimed punch broke his nose, his kidnapper losing patience with the prince’s defiance. Noctis, bloodied and beaten, finally giving in, but not without spitting in the man’s face first, earning himself another hit.

“We’re close, Regis.” Clarus’ voice sounded like it came from miles away, Regis’ entire attention focused on the video in front of him. His friend was worried, Regis could tell. He loved Noctis just as much as he loved his king. “The Glaives are closing in on them as we speak. Maybe an hour more and then you’ll have your boy back with you. I promise.”

He couldn’t speak. Not when the animal inside of him raged on. He couldn’t risk it breaking free.

A part of him - the almost-dormant part that dominated in his youth, the part that loved the thrill of a good fight - wanted to be fiercely proud of his son. Of how the prince fought back, boldness in his every move. How he refused to give in and wouldn’t be intimidated. Barely fifteen years old, but already unbreakable in spirit. The kings of yore, the ones always hovering on the edge of his consciousness sang with anger and pride both, demanding vengeance.

But the other part of him - the one that held a tiny, fragile baby in his arms after it was born and finally learned how it felt to feel fear, fear of losing his one reason for living - wanted to shout at the screen as if Noctis could hear him, wanted the prince to stop provoking the people who took him, to be quiet and obey and stay _alive_ so that Regis could hold him again.

“An hour,” Regis said, willing the magic rising inside of him to calm, to wait, to stay bound for a little while longer before it unleashed an inferno of destruction he wasn’t sure he could control. “After that, I’m going to take care of it myself.”

It wasn’t a threat, though for someone like Clarus, who probably knew him better than he knew himself, it certainly sounded like one.

The kings of old sang in agreement and magic boiled in his veins, ready to be used, to be set free, to find the ones who dared to take his heart away and drown them in Ifrit’s fire.


End file.
